


Take A Chance On Me

by nothingwithoutyouxo



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Fluff, F/F, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-10-10 20:24:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17432930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingwithoutyouxo/pseuds/nothingwithoutyouxo
Summary: Ilse worked at a flower shop from Tuesday to Saturdays. Her life changed on a Wednesday in a way that she never saw coming.





	1. Sunshine and Irises

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trailing short chapters for a hot minute. I missed these girls. This is for Hannah.
> 
> Title is an ABBA song because it's wlw culture tbh.

Ilse had worked hard to sort her life into a relatively normal routine. She’d been through far too much when she was younger, and finding some normalcy amongst all of that had been the most important thing for so long. Now she had that. Every morning she woke up in her tiny little apartment that she just managed to afford herself. The light filtering through her small window, with its even smaller window sill that was home to her three sapling children. When she felt brave enough, she’d get up and water them while waiting for her kettle to boil so she could make a cup of tea. Ilse had her job at the flower shop that she worked Tuesday to Saturdays. There hadn’t been a time that she’d been happier than she was now. Her life changed on a Wednesday in a way that she never saw coming. 

 

Wednesdays were often quiet at the shop. There was no urgency during the middle of the week, and if there wasn’t a holiday coming up there wasn’t often a rush. Ilse often spent her time watering the plants while quietly humming to whatever music she played on her beat up old radio. Sometimes it was pop music, sometimes it was jazz. Sometimes she cheated and plugged her phone directly into the speakers and pumped some  _ Fleetwood Mac _ as loud as she could allow herself. Today was definitely one of those days. At 10 they received their deliveries for the week which she had to sign off on, and reluctantly turn the music down so it was more for ambiance than anything else. After that, she arranged a few new bouquets, carefully weaving baby’s breath between colourful blooms. At 11:30 the bell above the door rang and Ilse felt like she’d been struck by lightning. 

 

A girl made her way into the shop. She looked up as the bell dinged above her, a smile lighting up her face as she closed the door behind her again. She almost blended in, the floral pattern of her flouncy skirt matching the scenery perfectly. The girl pushed some of her short hair behind her ears and scanned the shop quietly. Ilse had to remind herself that customer service was part of her job. That she couldn’t just stand around and gawk at who was quite possibly the most beautiful girl she’d ever seen. She narrowly avoided pricking herself on a thorn on the stem she was was holding and wiped her hands, making her way over to the girl who had stopped near the doorway. She was gazing down at an arrangement of white and pink lilies.

 

“Is there anything I can help you with today?” she asked, forcing herself into customer service mode. 

 

The girl looked up at her and smiled. Ilse just about forgot how to breathe. “I’m looking for something for my mum. It’s her birthday tomorrow.”

 

She nodded, part of her brain already logging into her usual ‘bouquets for all occasions’ directory. “Does she have a favourite flower?”

 

She hummed in thought and Ilse had to stop herself from thinking about how  _ adorable _ that was. “I can’t remember exactly, but I have a feeling they’re not in season.”

 

“I’m sure we’ll be able to find something for her anyway.”

 

“I want to say irises?”

 

Ilse smiled. “We do have a few. Does she have a favourite colour?”

 

“Purple.”

 

She nodded. “Good choice. They’ll be just over here.” 

 

Ilse crossed the room. The flowers were often organised by type and then by colour. She had the layout of the shop memorised and it took her less than a minute to find what she was after. 

 

“So these are the boxes that we have. We usually pair them with roses or lillies, but if you were after them by themselves we have bouquets.”

 

The girl reached down and picked up a box compiled of purple irises and yellow roses. “They do look quite lovely together,” she said.

 

Ilse could definitely think of something else that was lovely. There was no way she could voice those thoughts. At least not right now. She nodded instead. “We put purple and yellow together a lot because they’re complimentary colours. Pink and blue are also common.”

 

“Is this might be a weird question.”

 

She loved weird questions.

 

“You don’t know if they have a meaning do they?”

 

“The flowers?”

 

She nodded.

 

“It depends on the colour. So for irises in purple they can symbolise wisdom, and yellow roses are usually interpreted as friendship.”

 

The girl smiled at that. “Well, I’m sold. They’re perfect.”

 

Ilse returned her smile. “Would you like me to ring those up for you?”

 

“If you don’t mind.”

 

She took hold of the box gently and made her way over to the register. “If you’re going to put these in a vase make sure to cut the ends of the stems off diagonally. It’ll help the flowers collect more water and they’ll last a bit longer that way. I’ll also give you some flower food which you just pour directly into the water once you’ve placed them.”

 

“Ilse.”

 

Ilse startled at the use of her name, and the girl must have noticed. 

 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that out loud. You have an usual name.”

 

Ilse looked down at her name tag. She wasn’t sure why but she was kind of grateful for it. “It’s a family name,” she replied. “Technically.”

 

“I have one of those too,” she smiled. “I’m Wendla.”

 

“Wendla. Is that -?”

 

“German? Yes. My family’s from there.”

 

“It means explorer doesn’t it? Or something similar?”

 

She nodded. “Wanderer but you were very close.”

 

Ilse looked at her for a moment, distracted by Wendla’s smile. Then her register beeped at her and she had to remind herself that she was at work. “Right, so that’ll be $45,” she said.

 

“Of course.” Wendla fumbled quite quickly for her purse and then handed over the exact amount in cash.

 

“You’re the first person who’s paid in cash this week,” Ilse laughed. 

 

“I try to keep some on me for special occasions,” she explained. “Habit I picked up from my mum.”

 

“Well, I hope she has a good birthday.” 

 

She smiled. “I hope so too.”

 

Ilse slid over the box of flowers. “I forgot to ask. Did you want a card?”

 

“Oh no, that’s ok. She’ll know they’re from me.”

 

She handed Wendla her receipt. “Here’s your receipt and the flower food.”

 

Wendla took them, carefully sliding them into her purse and then picked up the box of flowers. “It was nice meeting you.”

 

Ilse couldn’t help but smile. “You too.”


	2. Daybreak and Folded Pages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In 2019 I've thrown posting schedules to the wind.

“Alright, that’s the third box of flowers you’ve brought in since last week. I’m starting to get suspicious.”

 

Wendla probably could have rolled her eyes and brushed off the comment, but this was the first time he’d brought it up. She supposed that she owed Melchior an explanation at this point. It wasn’t like she’d ever brought flowers into the shop before without a legitimate reason. Especially with this level of frequency. The only thing she’d ever really brought with her to her shifts were half a batch of cookies or a cupcake or two to share on special occasions. The flowers were definitely different to that. There wasn’t really a point to them. 

 

She worked at a bookshop from Monday-Friday and some Sundays if they were really desperate. More often than not, she shared her shifts with Melchior. The store was big enough that it warranted the both of them, even on quiet days. The two of them often spent their time reorganising the ‘New Releases’ section or debating what books to display while sharing somewhat aimless conversation about their lives and adding titles to the recommendations list they kept for customers. Currently, Melchior was leaning against the counter, a book him front of him but his now curious eyes were trained on her. She knew that he was waiting for her to say something. She looked down at the box she was holding, blue and tied with a neat little ribbon, and sighed. 

 

“Help me find somewhere to put this and I’ll tell you,” she replied. 

 

He smiled at her, one hand sliding a bookmark between the page he was holding down and closing the cover quickly. Wendla didn’t even bother to look what it was. She saw the orange of the Penguins Classic cover and that was enough. “Let me guess, you’ve fallen in love with a girl that works in a flower shop,” he teased. 

 

Maybe she should have been concerned with how predictable she was. If this could even be called that. Or the fact that her life had somehow turned into an indie movie over the past week. She slapped his hand instead. “Shut up.”

 

“That assault is going to be on the security cameras forever.”

 

Wendla looked at him for a moment, trying to stand her ground, but it wasn’t long until the two of them were laughing. 

 

Melchior was the first to recover. “That table in the back corner of the store with the ceramic swan thing on it. They should fit there just fine,” he said. “I doubt anyone will notice.”

 

“You know, I didn’t even think of that.”

 

He shrugged. “I’m not good for many things, but hiding art amongst the shelves is one of them.”

 

She rolled her eyes, leaning over the counter to shove at his shoulder. “You’re an idiot,” she said.

 

“Without you to remind me then I’d promptly forget.”

 

Wendla laughed before picking up the box and heading for the shelves. Melchior followed after her, catching up in about three paces and then slowly down to match her. “So, tell me about her.” 

 

There was a lightness to his tone that she wasn’t quite used to. Somewhere between genuinely curious and waiting for something to tease her about. That was probably fair. She’d done the same for him under similar circumstances. “Well, she’s beautiful,” she started.

 

“Clearly, now give me details.”

 

“What kind?”

 

He shrugged. “What does she look like?”

 

Wendla stopped in place for a moment, fixing a handful of the books out of habit. She hated when people shoved things back out of order. It ruined the aesthetic of the whole shelf. “Uh, dark hair. Pixie cut. Think Alice from Twilight.”

 

“Well, at least you know she’s gay too.”

 

She elbowed him but he just laughed. 

 

“What? It’s true.”

 

Wendla wished that she could stop smiling. She was just proving his point. “You’re the worst.”

 

“I know, but we’re not talking about me,” he said.

 

She smirked. “I must be in shock. That’s such a drastic change for us.”

 

Melchior stopped in place and crossed his arms over his chest. 

 

Wendla paused and just looked at him, a glint in her eye. “Honey, when are you going to learn to take a joke?”

  
  
  


He didn’t even try to answer her, instead just turning the corner and doing his best to ignore the fact that she was laughing again. He looked down at the small wooden table. He wasn’t sure what the significance of the swan was, if there was any. The owner did have animals stationed throughout the store. Melchior had never thought to ask about them before. “If we move this swan over to the right, there should be  _ just  _ enough space for those flowers.”

 

“Hmm? If you drop it and break it, Gould will probably kill us both. Or fire us and I’m not sure which is worse.”

 

“Nice Hermione Granger reference.” Melchior reached for the swan, very carefully sliding it over to the side. “Can’t drop it if I don’t pick it up,” he added. 

 

“True Innovation,” she mused.  

 

He reached for the box of flowers next and Wendla didn’t even think before handing them over. 

 

“Don’t drop those either.”

 

“At least try to trust me, Wendla.” He placed the box down,and for a moment enjoyed the fact that he was right. Then he looked up at Wendla and noticed that she was smiling at the flowers with the absolutely sappiest smile he had ever seen. “What’s her name?” he asked. 

 

“Ilse.”

 

He watched her push some of her hair behind her ear, still smiling softly. “Is she religious?”

 

Her brows pulled together, trying to figure out what the point of the question was. “Would that matter?”

 

He shook his head. “Her name means ‘oath of god’.”

 

“And?”

 

Melchior shrugged. “And nothing.”

 

She looked at him for a moment. “How do you even know that?”

 

He smiled at her. “I’m plagued with being all-knowing remember?”

 

Wendla couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh you’re  _ plagued  _ with it, are you?”

 

He nodded. “A blessing and a curse. No, I used to know an Ilse. We used to go to the same church when I was a kid.”

 

She cocked her head to the side, suddenly deep in thought. “What if she’s the same one?”   
  


Melchior seemed to think about that for a moment too. “I have no idea. I don’t know where she ended up. She just stopped coming one day. That happened a lot so I didn’t really question it.”

 

“It wouldn’t be a common name, right?”

 

He shrugged. “Depends on where she’s from, I guess.”

 

Wendla looked down at the flowers again, and just about melted. It was probably something she was going to be doing a lot from this point on. She wasn’t sure if she should be worried about that or not. She heard Melchior laugh and shook her head, trying to come back down to earth.

 

“You’re really smitten,” he said.

 

“That is seriously not a word I thought I’d ever hear you say, but you know what yeah. You’d know how that feels.”

 

He nodded. “You made fun of me then, Wendla. This is just revenge.”

 

She tried to think of a response to that, but couldn’t. She huffed instead because he was right again and he knew it. “I hate you.”

 

“Mhmm. We have to change the Young Adult display. Wanna start now?” He pulled a piece of paper out of his back pockets. Details on what books were coming out and what Gould wanted up front. 

 

“Is this you roping me into a situation where I have to keep hearing you talk?”

 

He took the bait. “I  _ do  _ know how to shut up.”

 

“Do you?”

 

She could tell that he didn’t have a response to that. She beamed up at him, rocking back on her heels and then turning and heading towards the YA section. 

 

“Fair play,” he called, before following after her. 

 

“Maybe I’ll rope you into hearing me talk instead,” she mused. 

 

He shrugged. “Alright, well talk about your girl then.”

 

“She’s not my girl,” she reminded.  _ God, I wish _ .

 

“Even so, she sounds like your type.”

 

“All girls are my type.”

 

The two of them stopped and looked at their current display. At the moment, it was set up specifically with covers that were the colour blue. There wasn’t a point to it. It was just something different that they’d decided would be a good idea on the day. Melchior looked down at the paper he was holding. “Not sure why he wants us to change this. Not much has come out.”

 

“No movies or anything?”

 

“Not really. He wants a fantasy theme now.”

 

“Wendla nodded. “Too easy,” she said, before taking off into the shelves. She already knew what she was going to put up front. “Any suggestions?”

 

“Unless you want to mix some sci-fi in there then no,” he replied.

 

“Do you have a type of girl?” she asked.

 

“A what?”

 

“You heard me.” She pulled a book from the shelves and handed it to him. 

 

He shoved the paper back into his pocket and took it from her. “Does it matter?”

 

“Well, not really. Just curious.”

 

She handed him two more books before he came up with an answer. “My type was usually too nice to realise that I just needed someone to talk at.”

 

Wendla looked down at the two books in her hands, unable to decide between them. “That’s kind of awful. Post apocalypse or magic?”

 

“Post apocalypse. Look, I haven’t dated a girl since high school and I wasn’t good at it.”

 

“I’m aware,” she mused. She dropped the book onto the pile that was steadily forming. “How many did we need again?”

 

“Six,” he answered. “I think we’ve got them all.”

 

She nodded, taking a few of the books that he was holding and practically skipping back down the aisle they were in. “You know, it’s probably a good thing you don’t date girls anymore.”

 

“I highly doubt I’m any better at dating boys.” 

 

“I don’t know, you seem to be doing ok. Maybe you just found your type.”

 

He rolled his eyes at her. The two of them carefully placed the books they were holding on the floor and quickly started taking apart their blue display. “I’m not letting you turn this around on me,” he said.

 

“Royalty. Post Apocalypse. Assassins. How do you feel about that order?”

 

“Whatever you think is best.”

 

She smiled. “Right answer.”


	3. Sunshowers and Orange Roses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again. This one took a little while. I've busy and fell behind on writing it. I got a lovely comment on this a week or so ago that prompted me to write up the next chapter (big shoutout to feelssogoodinmyarms). It's a little longer than the last two to make up for my absence. I hope you guys like it! :)

It had gotten to the point that Ilse’s heart skipped a beat whenever the bell hanging over the door rang. Whenever someone entered the shop, the split second that it took her to look up was the most nerve wracking she’d ever experienced. Of course, it wasn’t always Wendla, but when it was she’d never felt more alive. 

 

Today, there was a clip in Wendla’s hair that was shaped like a flower and Ilse couldn’t help but think that it was perfect. 

 

“What colour will it be today?” Ilse asked, a smile immediately lighting up her face as Wendla closed the door to the shop behind her. 

 

Wendla had to remind herself to tear her eyes away from Ilse. She needed to at least seem as if she was there for the flowers. “I’m thinking orange,” she muttered. “I haven’t bought anything orange yet.”

 

They had a surprising amount of orange. Ilse couldn’t remember the last time she’d sold an orange bouquet but there was never a shortage of them. Orange roses, orange poppies, marigolds. Usually they used orange to match with pinks and reds to create summery bouquets. Sometimes they paired it with yellow and white. Ilse told Wendla all of this while she scanned the flowers. She wasn’t sure why she did. She didn’t really talk this much to a customer unless prompted. 

 

“It’s a warm colour, isn’t it?” she asked.

 

Ilse nodded. “Typically it means joy and creativity.”

 

Wendla smiled at her. “Do you really know the meaning of every colour?”

 

She hadn’t realised that she did. “I guess so.”

 

She held her gaze for a moment longer, still smiling, before picking up a box. One of their brighter mixes. Warm. Just like her. 

 

Ilse took the box and rung it up for her. “You know, I’ve never had a regular customer before,” she said. She wondered if Wendla noticed the small shake in her voice.

 

Wendla laughed. “I’ve only time I’ve been a regular customer is at the bakery near where I work,” she explained. “This is new but I like it.”

 

The two of them looked at each other. Ilse had to remind herself of two things. Firstly, to breathe, and then to move the conversation along. 

 

“Do you work around here?” she asked, hoping that she wasn’t prying.

 

Wendla nodded. “Sort of. I work at a bookshop a few blocks away.”

 

“Oh. Gould’s right?” She knew of it. Tucked away down an alleyway. She had a friend who frequented there but had never been herself. 

 

“That’s the one. If you ever need recommendations, you can come and see me there.” 

 

Maybe she would. Ilse wasn’t sure if she could turn down an invitation like that. If that’s what this was? 

 

Wendla looked away, down at the box of flowers. She pulled some of her behind her ear and Ilse wondered why she loved the gesture so much. It was pretty normal. A lot of people did it. Why was it was so much cuter when Wendla did it? “So how much do I owe you?” she asked.

 

Shit. Sales. Job. Work. “Uh.” Ilse paused, looking down at her register. “$45.” 

 

Wendla smiled, she pulled a card out of her wallet. “You’d think I’d have that memorised by now.”

 

“If it makes you feel better, I’ve worked here for a year and I still don’t.” Ilse pulled the card machine closer to her, punching in the amount before handing it to Wendla. “No cash today?”

 

She shook her head. “I’m trying something new.”

 

“You can just tap if you like.”

 

The way Wendla smiled when the transaction went through was somehow the most incredible thing she had ever seen. “Sort of like magic, isn’t it?”

 

Yeah. Sort of. 

 

Wendla shoved her wallet back into her bag and picked up the box of flowers. “Sorry for always being in here,” she said. “Is it weird having a regular customer?”

 

Ilse shook her head. “Not at all. Every time I see you it makes my day.” 

 

She watched the blush rise in Wendla’s cheeks. She giggled, and looked down at the flowers instead. “Hopefully I’ll see you soon.”

 

_ Hopefully. _ “You know where to find me.”

 

“We have to stop meeting like this,” she teased. “It’s becoming a bit of a pattern.”

 

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with patterns.”

 

Wendla smiled. “Neither do I.”

 

***

 

The rain was more mist than anything as the sun still shone on above her. Ilse smiled up at the sky, enjoying the way that the light made a million little rainbows in all the best places as she headed down the street. She’d never been to Gould’s before. She’d heard about it. Her friends all loved books and reading. She’d never had the focus, too distracted to think about one story when there was a million others that wanted her attention. Maybe that could change. She could work on it. She headed down a small alleyway. There was a sign of top of the door, an arrow pointing towards it. Yep, this was definitely the place. Ilse pushed the door open, and was immediately hit with the smell of fresh pages. She hadn’t been in a bookstore in a while. The last time as probably with Ernst, for one of his obscure poetry readings that they all loved tagging along to. He must have been due for another one soon.

 

Ilse’s eyes scanned the shop slowly. It was deeper than she’d expected, too many shelves stretching out before her. There was a counter to her right. The boy behind it looked up at her as she entered. He offered her a smile, poking absently at his glasses. There was a book sitting in front of him. He looked exactly how he should working somewhere like this. She returned his smile, making her way over.

 

“Looking for anything in particular?” he asked.

 

Ilse wasn’t sure if she should pretend that she was. Maybe ask for whatever genre popped into her head first.  _ Romance _ . Ok, definitely not. “I’m looking for a person actually,” she said.

 

His eyes lit up. “So you’re flower girl then.” 

 

She must have looked shocked because he laughed.

 

“Wendla talks a lot when she’s excited. Unfortunately, she’s not in today.”

 

Ilse wished she could hide the fact that her shoulders slumped.

 

He leaned against the counter towards her, book forgotten for the moment. “Yeah. She had her nephew’s birthday so I’m covering for her. Technically.”

 

“Technically?”

 

“We’re supposed to have two people on at one time so I’m both of us for today.”

 

She smiled faintly. “Can you handle that?”

 

He shrugged. “I’m pretty decent at my job.”

 

“Surely if you’re two people you need to be better than decent.”

 

The two of them looked at each other for a moment, and then they both started laughing. 

 

“I’m Melchior,” he said, closing his book and putting to the side. 

 

Ilse caught a glance at the cover. “I’m Ilse and Zelda was cooler than her husband could ever hope of being.”

 

Melchior looked down at the copy of  _ The Great Gatsby _ . “Yeah, you’re not wrong.”

 

She rocked back on her heels, a little smug. At least he’d agreed to that. 

 

“Anything else I can help you with while you’re here?” he asked.

 

Ilse shrugged. “Do I get a tour or aren’t I exclusive enough for that?”

 

He looked over at her, eyes sparkling with amusement. “No wonder Wendla likes you so much.”

 

“She does?”

 

He shrugged. “Who’s to say?”

 

Ilse crossed her arms over her chest. “Ok, John Mulaney.”

 

Melchior laughed. He tapped his book once and then rounded the counter. “That was a test and you passed.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“So is there anything you read usually?”   
  


“Uh.”

 

He nodded before she had the chance to think of an answer, starting off towards the shelves. “Wanna play a game of count the flowers that obviously aren’t here for any particular reason?” he teased.

 

“You’re too sly for my liking,” she said.

 

“Don’t worry. I’ve earned this.”

 

Ilse had no idea what that meant, and she wasn’t keen to ask yet. Maybe a little later, but for now she just fell into step next to him and listened as he rambled off facts about the different sections. They kept up a pretty steady stream of conversation about the shop. How long he’d been working here, when he met Wendla, how long they’d known each other. All that stuff. Melchior seemed pretty content to just talk but he let her annoy him with as many questions as she could think of. Ilse’s eyes scanned the shelves absently. She wasn’t ever looking for anything, just observing. As they were about to turn a corner she stopped in her tracks. Melchior looked up at her, and then followed her line of sight.

 

There was a frame on the wall holding one of the most beautiful pieces of art that Ilse had ever seen. She couldn’t quite tell what it was from this far away, but she was drawn to it even so. “What’s that?” she asked. 

 

Melchior smiled. “That is a work of art.”

 

She nodded. “Oh absolutely.”

 

He nudged her gently and she started off towards it. The closer she got the stranger it looked. She couldn’t quite work out what it was. 

 

Melchior trailed behind he quietly. She could feel his eyes on her. “So, this was actually made by my boyfriend,” he said in the most casual way possible. 

 

“Really? He’s so talented.”

 

He smiled. “Yeah. He’s amazing. Literally all of the art on the walls is his except for I think two paintings. I keep sneaking stuff in here. Gould doesn’t notice. Or if he does, he doesn’t mention it which I appreciate.”

 

Ilse looked up at him. He seemed so happy and it warmed her heart. “Alright why are you sneaking your boyfriend’s art into your place of employment?”

 

He looked at her for a moment. She wondered if he was going to play along or. “I’m here too much. Keeps him with me,” he said.

 

She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t been expecting such a serious answer. Normally she would tease him a little more about that, but she let it slide today. She looked back at the picture. “I’m literally so intrigued by the how the hell did he -”

 

“Let’s see if I can remember,” he muttered.

 

“It’s photography right?”

 

“Yeah. He’s a photographer.”

 

She nodded. “It almost looks like paint. Or something.”

 

“From memory he used one of his fancy lenses.”

 

Ilse laughed. “I’m glad all his camera knowledge has rubbed off on you.”

 

Melchior rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut up. I think it was like those, uh,  little foil glitter things that you have on tables at parties. He just sort of blurred it so it looks like strobe lights and then I think he layered it or something.”

 

She smiled. “I love it.”

 

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

 

Ilse looked up to see that he was still smiling too. “Have you two been together long?” she asked. 

 

Melchior shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yes and no. Officially, we’ve only been dating for just over a year but we’ve been inseparable since I was, like, born basically.”

 

“Naw, is he older than you?”

 

He nodded. “Six months older, but it’s ok. I’m six inches taller than him.”

 

She laughed. “Cute!”

 

“Yeah, we grew up together. Which I’m told is also cute.”

 

“It absolutely is.”

 

His eyes flicked from her back to the picture on the wall. “Took me a while, I guess, but there’s no sense without him, you know?”

 

“Melchi, that’s adorable.”

 

“Yeah …” He ran a hand through his hair. He seemed almost embarrassed by that. 

 

Ilse crossed her arms over her chest. “Why’d it take you so long? If you don’t mind me asking.”

 

“No, that’s ok. I grew up Catholic so liking boys is a big no-no.”

 

“Oh yeah. Yikes.”

 

He laughed, but then his smile fell again. “Big yikes. When I see my parents sometimes my dad can’t even look at me which is … fantastic.”

 

Maybe that hit a little close to home. She reached up and tapped his shoulder, trying to comfort him. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

 

He locked eyes with her and offered her a very small smile. “It’s fine.”

 

“How’s your mum with it?”

 

“She’s good. She wasn’t really shocked when I came out as bi. I think she always sort of knew. She must have sensed it or noticed how I looked at Moritz, I guess.”

 

“Moritz?”

 

“My boyfriend.”

 

“God, even his name is cute,” she teased.

 

“Right! It’s almost unfair.”

 

She nudded him gently. “Melchior isn’t so bad.”

 

Melchior shrugged. “Could be worse. I guess my parents could have called me ‘Michael’ or something.”

 

Ilse laughed. “Michael? That doesn’t suit you at all.”

 

“Exactly my point.”

 

She looked at him for a moment. “Well, I don’t know him, but he seems good for you.”

 

He seemed startled by that, but covered it well. “Thanks.”

 

“I’m sure it takes a lot to keep up with you.”

 

He rolled his eyes. “Very funny.”

 

It went quiet for a moment. Ilse was going to tease him a little more. Say that he didn’t look like someone who was in love, but course she’d be wrong. He absolutely did. It was interesting to see him so soft, different to what she was used to. The two of them looked at the picture on the wall for a little bit longer before starting to amble back towards the front of the store in companionable silence. 

 

“It was good to see you again, Ilse.”

 

She smiled. “I didn’t know if you remembered.” It was nice that he did. It had been a long while. 

 

“Come on. I could never forget someone like you.”

 

“At least I know that you’re taking care of yourself.”

 

He matched her smile. “Well, now you can check up on me whenever you want.”

 

“That’s my life goal.”

 

Melchior laughed. “I’m here about as often as Wendla, but if you come next Tuesday between two and three you might be lucky enough to catch her alone.”

 

She raised an eyebrow. Ilse wondered how she was going to thank him for that tip off. Once the two of them reached the front they paused again. Ilse only hesitated for a moment before pulling him into a hug. He sort of returned it, mostly. Melchior was just as awkward with physical affection as she remembered. She guessed that some things never changed. “You’re the best,” she said. 

 

“Yeah. It’s whatever.” He brushed off the compliment immediately. “Maybe you can stop by and see me sometimes too.”

 

She wasn’t sure if he was teasing or not. She thought that maybe he was kind of hopeful. She smiled. “Only if I get to meet that boy of yours one day.”

 

He nodded. “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a few loose ends to tie in. The Michael joke is a reference to the god awful movie adaptation of the play that renamed all the characters and somehow Melchior become Michael Gable and I laugh about it regularly tbh. I'd apologise for him being in this so much but y'all should know he's always gonna show up in my fics by now.
> 
> Feel free to hit me up on [Tumblr](http://www.potter-awakening.tumblr.com) if you like :)

**Author's Note:**

> I think I read a similar au in this fandom but for a different ship. I've had this idea since last year and now it's just coming together oops. 
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr over at [potter-awakening](http://www.potter-awakening.tumblr.com)


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